Hero
by SGAFan
Summary: Written in repsonse to a challenge to write something about Shep and his picture of Evel Knievel.


**Hero**

John stopped in the doorway to his quarters and stared for a moment, before a slow smile spread across his face. Unzipping his TAC vest, he threw it on the chair, before turning and once more fixing his gaze on the plain box marked 'PERSONAL: LT. COLONEL JOHN SHEPPARD, USAF: FRAGILE' that sat next to his bed. When they'd returned from their initial trip back to the SGC after the siege was over, there had been so many vital supplies, not to mention manpower, that Atlantis had needed that there had been no allotment for personal items. This time, it had been different. Personal effects of all the surviving members of the original expedition team had been included on the Daedalus manifest.

He sat down on the edge of his bed and, pulling the knife from his belt sheath, cut through the clear tape binding the box together. Pulling back the flaps, he reached in and grabbed the first thing his hand encountered. His smile widened as he carefully lifted out the small model of an Apache. He thought of the long hours it'd taken him to put it together, and chuckled.

Setting the model on his bed, he again reached in the box. This time, he pulled out a couple of Johnny Cash CDs. "Oh yeah," he nodded to himself, "missed these." He tossed the CDs on his pillow and delved into the box once more. He sighed deeply as he considered dark, simple case and the medals it held. His gaze scanned each of them. Almost unconsciously, he rubbed the faint scar on his shoulder left by a Taliban bullet, while his eyes settled on his Purple Heart. He sighed again. _Have to get that Antarctic Service ribbon one of these days…._

Setting the case aside, he rooted around in his box again. This time, his hand closed over something hard, flat and heavily wrapped in paper. John slowly peeled back the layers of packing until he revealed the framed photograph. _God, was I ever that young?_ He rested his elbows on his knees and stared at the picture of him and his childhood idol, his mind awash with childhood memories.

Evel Knievel had been his hero as long as he could remember. But hell, when he was a kid, Knievel was the hero of every boy in the country. He'd been a daredevil: to a small boy, that alone was incredibly cool. Yet, as the years passed, John realized he admired Knievel for more than that. The man never gave up and never let anything, even injuries, stop him from doing what he wanted and felt compelled to do. Knievel believed that if you set your mind to it and prepared yourself, you could do anything you wanted; that idea was something John had carried with him, even into adulthood.

His mind latched onto one particular memory, still clear in his mind.

"_John! Come on, son, you're going to miss it!"_

"_Coming, Dad!" With the energy only an eight year old boy could have, John raced from his room, down the hallway, and into the living room, his mad dash only stopped by his mother's words._

"_John Marcus Sheppard! Don't you dare jump on that couch!"_

_John looked guiltily at his mother. "Yes, mom," he muttered, slowing his pace to a fast walk. He plopped down on the couch next to his dad, and scooted closer when his father put an arm around his shoulders. He looked over at his mom as she curled her legs under herself and settled into the love seat next to them._

"_I swear, everyone I know is watching this," she commented. "What's so special about a man who jumps buses with his motorcycle?"  
_

"_Mom!" John protested. "He's so cool!"_

"_Ellie," his dad reasoned, "he's jumping over fourteen Greyhound buses. That's no small feat. In fact, its never been done." _

_Ellie shook her head and gave her husband a long stare, before smiling at John. Without further comment, she turned her attention back to the TV. _

_John looked up at his father. "Think he can do it, Dad?" His father had shrugged, but John continued to look imploringly at him anyway._

"_It's only been five months since he was injured, but if anyone can do it, he can." His dad gave him a reassuring nod._

"_He'll do it," John said with confidence. _

John nodded to himself. Evel _had_ done it, and both he and his father had rattled the windows with their cheering, because if there was one thing they had in common, it was being a fan of Evel Knievel. _Okay,_ John admitted to himself, _we had a lot more in common than either of us realized…._ But, in a time when his father's presence in John's life was spotty at best, it was one of the clearest and best memories he had. John's smile faded slightly. His father was gone a lot when he was a kid, and John never knew why. Only that he was in the military and it was his job. But to an eight or ten year old boy, the why didn't matter. The only thing that did was that he wasn't there. But when he was, when he and John did have time together: those were the memories that stuck with John.

Looking up from the photograph and glancing around his quarters, John chuckled cynically. _And I thought my dad was a long way from home…_

His gaze returned to the picture. Two years after that historic jump, Evel had been at an air show close to where John had been living with his mother, while his father was yet again deployed overseas. Evel had been signing autographs and posing for pictures. John chuckled, this time fondly. He'd been so nervous standing in line, he thought he was going to throw up, but Evel had put him at ease, talked to him like he was someone special, and even posed for a picture with him. At a time when John had the heartache of missing his father, it'd been a moment of pure joy.

Reaching round to the back of the frame, John pulled out the stand and set the picture on his dresser. He held tightly to his smile as he turned back to unpacking his box.

_Note: October 25, 1975 - Evel successfully jumped 14 Greyhound buses at King's Island in Ohio. Evel still holds the all time ABC's Wide World of Sports TV viewing audience record for his 52 of household share when his King's Island performance was broadcast in 1975._


End file.
